"Professor Snape, I think you've got the wrong idea about something... Could you please stop looking at me like I'm trash?"
Snape: "In my eyes, you've always been exactly that."
"Professor, usually you look at me like I'm some dumb troll, but today it's honestly kinda hurting my feelings..."
People really shouldn't... At the very least, they shouldn't...
Tom swore to himself that he had zero interest in guys!
Snape pulled his gaze away and glared coldly at Chris. "I believe you're a third-year Gryffindor, Mr. Chris. I hope you'll perform well in the next Potions class.
Now... why haven't you left yet? Are you planning to invite a first-year student to your ridiculous Christmas ball right in front of me?"
Chris shrank back and bolted out of there.
He didn't dare piss off Snape—anyone who crossed Professor Snape ended up utterly miserable.
He remembered a senior who once got a week's detention; after that, the guy never dared lift his head in Snape's presence again.
Terrifying.
"Tom, you seem pretty interested in the Christmas ball?" Snape said, hands clasped behind his back.
With no outsiders around, he'd switched from calling him "Riddle" back to "Tom."
"Professor, of course I'm interested," Tom admitted outright. "I'm curious about anything new I've never experienced—whether it's magic, classes, or exciting stuff like this ball. Professor, can I go?"
From Snape's completely unmoved expression, Tom already knew the answer.
"I'm curious what you've been doing these past two hours. Now! Raise your wand, Tom!" Before Tom could speak, Snape cut in. "Put away those stupid ideas. You actually thought you could bargain with me?"
Tom had literally been about to say: Professor, if I do well, could you make an exception and let me go to the ball?
Being seen through like that felt awful. Tom cleared his throat and raised his wand.
"Now, hit me with the spells you've learned from books. Let's see how much you've actually picked up!"
"Diffindo!" Tom pointed his wand straight ahead.
For the first time, it actually felt like it worked!
(Quick reminder: 101 Reading Net is super handy—101kks.com, check anytime for the fastest chapter updates!)
[You successfully cast a spell. Rating: Troll! Diffindo +0.5.]
"Too slow, too weak—are you playing house with little kids?" Snape swatted Tom's Severing Charm aside like it was a fly. "What did I tell you? Always remember my words!
Magic is just like Potions—why don't you get that? Don't cast this spell with those innocent eyes of yours. You know what kind of magic Diffindo is. Answer me!"
"It's dark magic, Professor," Tom said honestly.
"Good. And what's the purpose of dark magic?"
Tom hesitated for a second, then tried, "Attack?"
"Wrong! It's to kill. To slaughter. To fight to the death! You should've been sorted into that idiot Gryffindor house instead of clever Ravenclaw. Use your thick skull to think why everyone hates and fears every single dark spell!
With the intent to kill me, cast Diffindo at me. Now!"
At that moment, Snape turned into a total chatterbox. "If you can't control your emotions, use Occlumency. It's not just for show!
Magic is flexible—defensive spells aren't only for protecting yourself; they can be used to attack too!
What are you waiting for?"
"Diffindo!" Tom cast again.
[You successfully cast a spell. Rating: Acceptable! Diffindo +3.]
"Keep going! Your killing intent isn't pure enough. Even if you've never killed anyone, haven't you at least seen someone die? Think about your parents—where did they die in battle?
Think about how you'd feel if your parents died right in front of you, facing those foreign soldiers. Now, imagine me as one of them!"
Occlumency...
Tom took a deep breath, sealing all his emotions behind his eyes.
A faint killing intent started radiating from him.
"Diffindo." No more excitement this time—Tom just sounded like he was locking onto a target.
[You successfully cast a spell. Rating: Exceeds Expectations! Diffindo +30.]
This time, Snape's pupils contracted slightly. It took him way more effort than before to block Tom's curse.
"Continue."
...
Three hours.
Tom kept repeating the same motion.
Wave the wand, cast, wave again, cast again!
Even though his arm was getting stiff and his lips were turning pale, Tom didn't stop for a second, relentlessly attacking Snape.
"That's enough for today," Snape finally said with a cold huff. "A first-year attending the Christmas ball is unheard of. By the rules, if a higher-year student invites you, you're allowed—but something this stupid has never happened at this school.
If you can get approval from the other three heads of house and Albus's agreement, you can waste four precious hours of your life at the ball. Now, go to the Potions lab, drink a restorative potion, and get out."
Is this... his way of saying yes?
"Professor, you're like a second father to me! Oh, and one more request..."
"Tom, don't you think you're pushing it?"
"Hermione wants to go to the ball too, and I need a dance partner."
Snape's face twisted in anger. "Get out of my office! Go waste your time with that stupid Gryffindor!"
"Bang!"
After kicking Tom out, Snape sat by the window, staring down at the crowds below.
Hermione Granger. Very well. Very well!
I look forward to your performance in the next Potions class!
Outside the door, Tom was in a great mood—even though he felt mentally drained and his body wasn't doing great.
But that didn't stop the happy grin on his face.
He was thrilled and immediately went to find Hermione.
...
"Why do you look so... Oh my gosh, what happened to you?" Hermione quickly sat him down and poured him a glass of milk.
Sure, Tom was a jerk in her book, but jerks come in levels.
Tom was the kind you couldn't help but like and hate at the same time.
"Someone came looking for me earlier—a third-year Gryffindor guy named Chris."
Hermione sipped her lemon tea without reacting much. "Yeah? So why are you telling me this? I don't know him. You know I don't have many friends."
She shrugged like she didn't care.
"He invited me to the Christmas ball, and from the look in his eyes, this third-year clearly wanted to see me in a long dress."
"That would suit you perfectly, Tom!" Hermione tried her hardest to keep a straight face—though her eyebrows were practically flying up. "Tom, with all those clothes you bought, maybe one set would work. Pfft... sorry, I just pictured something hilarious. Tom, you..."
She couldn't even finish. Hermione covered her face with her hands, taking deep breaths, but the image was too much.
"I knew it was you," Tom sighed. "I figured you really wanted to go to the ball—maybe even dreamed about dancing with me on the floor."
"I never said that!" Hermione shot back. "I'd be embarrassed to go with you. Unless, of course, you wore a long dress—then maybe I'd hire a little photographer to capture your ridiculous moment and show it to your future wife at your wedding."
Tom ignored her teasing and just sighed. "Man, and here I thought you were dying to go. I even swallowed my pride and begged Professor Snape to let us both attend.
I'd love to see what dance moves you've got, though. How many days until Christmas? Oh, a little over two weeks. Can't wait to see you out there, Miss Hermione—you've got more than two weeks to learn how to dance."
Hermione's smile froze. She stood up. "No! You can't do this! I won't go!"
"Then I'll just have to tell Professor Snape that Hermione Granger turned me down because she thinks I'm some poor orphanage kid who would embarrass her in front of everyone."
"Tom!" Hermione raised her little fists like she wanted to punch him twice in the face.
But seeing how pale he was, with bluish lips, she just lightly tapped his shoulder a couple times instead.
"Ow..."
"Ah? Did that hurt? Sorry, I didn't mean to—I was just joking... You're just so... so annoying." Hermione rubbed his shoulder gently. "What on earth happened in Professor Snape's office? You've never looked this weak."
A flicker of concern crossed her face—worry for a friend's rough experience.
"Nah, I was just faking the pain. Doesn't hurt at all."
Hermione: "..."
Seeing her speechless, Tom couldn't hold back a laugh. "Before we can go to the ball, we need approval from the other professors.
Professor Flitwick's old, but he's a kind old guy—he definitely won't say no to me.
Professor McGonagall's the tough one; you'll have to figure out how to handle her.
Professor Dumbledore... I've got some leverage on him, so that shouldn't be a problem."
Hermione asked without thinking, "What about Professor Sprout?"
But right after, she realized her mistake. Seeing Tom's smirk, she knew he'd caught her.
Professor Sprout practically treated Tom like her own son—there's no way she'd refuse.
"You said you have leverage on Professor Dumbledore? What happened?"
"Oh, I owe him a ton of money. If he doesn't let me go, I just won't pay him back." Tom grinned mischievously. "When I bought all my stuff before starting at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore covered the Galleons for me."
Hermione: "...You're a complete and total jerk."
Tom just smiled and didn't reply.
Of course he was joking—but how could Professor Dumbledore possibly say no to him anyway?